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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27003742">Home Past Curfew</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FukaiFox/pseuds/FukaiFox'>FukaiFox</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abuse, Abusive Valentino (Hazbin Hotel), Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Physical Abuse, Pre-Relationship, Protective Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), References to Drugs, Sex Work, Sexual Abuse, Trans Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:02:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,114</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27003742</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FukaiFox/pseuds/FukaiFox</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“So,” he starts, “didn’t know you were on babysitting duty tonight, honey.”<br/>“Perish the thought.” Alastor waves a dismissive hand. “You’re a grown man, Angel, you can take care of yourself. The problem, it seems,” he says as he gives the wounded spider another once-over with glowing red eyes, “lies in others not knowing how to take care of you.”</p><p>--<br/>Angel comes home past curfew a little worse for wear. Alastor, never one to go for the easy and unsportsmanlike attack, lends a helping hand.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>328</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Oneshots Radiodust</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Home Past Curfew</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is my first HH work pls take it easy on me i dont quite know how to write them yet</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Late in the nights at the <strike>Happy</strike> Hazbin Hotel, Alastor was a common sight to see if you happened to be wandering the halls at such an hour. You’d hear him before you saw him, his shoes clicking on the floors and radio static always following him around. Or perhaps, if you were enough of a survivor, you’d feel his energy first.</p><p>He wasn’t always wandering the halls, though.</p><p>Sometimes, he would simply sit in his room and read or even sew if the mood struck him. Always though, he would be listening to the radio and enjoying the music from his time on Earth.</p><p>He didn’t sleep much, only snagging a few hours here and there due to his demon body’s damnable prey instinct keeping him on edge and ready to wake and bolt at the slightest possible threat. He was just as touch-averse as people thought him to be, but mostly he just didn’t like being surprised. You couldn’t be caught off guard by touch if you were the one initiating it, after all. <br/>
It’s why he was always wandering, using the time to check his new territory by making a mental list of things in the hotel to be repaired or simply looking at the paintings and photos on the walls of the Magne family, little Princess Charlotte always looking uncomfortable in her Father’s spotlight. </p><p>For now, he was sitting in the main foyer of the building, sitting on a loveseat near the lit fireplace with a tumbler of rum and a book. He would prefer to relax in the comfort of his own room, but there was something keeping him here.</p><p>It was something of an agreement between Alastor and Charlie that if Angel Dust was out working, then would Alastor <em>“be so kind as to keep track of him? Just to make sure he gets home safe, please?”</em><br/>
Alastor could have said no, that it was Angel’s own responsibility to secure his safety, but in the end, he’d simply smiled and relented to the Princess and her batting eyelashes. <br/>
Charlie understood Angel’s predicament far better than Vaggie did, the latter moth demon having too much of a short-fuse and predilection for black-and-white thinking to see Angel’s forced work under Valentino as anything other than more of the spider’s “selfish bullshit.”<br/>
Alastor could understand that, he supposed. This hotel was her girlfriend’s dream, her biggest goal in life. She had already made quite the ass of herself on live TV due to Angel’s relapse, but from what he understood from his shadow, Angel had truly regretted what he’d done after seeing Charlie so beaten down and upset about it and made sure he stayed out of any unnecessary spotlights.<br/>
However, when Valentino called, Angel had to go.</p><p>And being called is exactly the reason Alastor is down here. It was nearly four hours past Angel’s curfew, something he was usually following, whether or not he would later sneak out his window and crawl down the side of the building, only to crawl back in the next morning before group breakfast.<br/>
But Alastor had yet to sense his presence anywhere and his shadow had nothing to report on Angel slinking up the brick building back to his window.<br/>
The deer demon was nearly finished with his drink when a loud slam made him jump in his chair and his ears go high and straight in alert before quickly swiveling their way towards the source, blinking as he watched Angel Dust stumbling in through the large double doors. He smelled blood and knew it was coming from the other demon, but there was more than that. He smelled chemicals and other bodily fluids that made him snort quietly to clear it from his nose. Sweat, blood, drug chemicals, cigarette smoke, and other various horrible things he didn’t wish to linger on to identify. All that, and none of the usual strawberries-and-cream scent that dusted his pastel pink fur.<br/>
Alastor tilts his head, static popping as he watches Angel’s leg tremble before collapsing underneath him as the spider manages to close the doors, kneeling on the floor in front of them. It’s only then that Alastor stands from the small couch and walks into the candlelight, shoes clacking on the floor.</p><p>“What’s this?” He asks with his signature grin. “You know, darling, you worry our dear Princess—,”<br/>
“Fuck. Off.” Comes the raspy reply. “I don’t need your shit right now, strawberry.”</p><p>Strawberry? Well, that was a new one.</p><p>Alastor clears his throat.<br/>
“Charlotte was worried about you, Angel, and now I can see she certainly had good reason.”</p><p>Angel scoffs and rolls his eyes and tries to stand again, but his leg won’t cooperate. Alastor looks around for a moment before leaning down to offer a hand.<br/>
“Come now, Angel, up you get.”<br/>
Angel eyes the offered hand.<br/>
“…I ain’t shakin’ your hand, pal.”<br/>
Alastor chuckles.<br/>
“No deals here, my friend. Just an offer to help.”<br/>
Angel groans as he takes the offered hand and slow stands.<br/>
“So,” he starts, “didn’t know you were on babysitting duty tonight, honey.”<br/>
“Perish the thought.” Alastor waves a dismissive hand. “You’re a grown man, Angel, you can take care of yourself. The problem, it seems,” he says as he gives the wounded spider another once-over with glowing red eyes, “lies in others not knowing how to take care of you.”<br/>
He puts his arm around Angel’s waist and lets the spider lean on him for support before snapping his fingers, summoning a portal surrounded by flames.<br/>
“Uh— Hey, what the fuck? I’m not goin’ in that!”<br/>
“I’m taking you to your room, Angel. You’re in no state to make it up all those stairs by yourself.”</p><p>Sure enough, on the other side of the portal, Angel can see his bedroom, fluffy and pink and messy as always. He sighs and lets Alastor walk him through. Once inside, Alastor carefully sits Angel down on his bed.<br/>
“There we are. Now,”<br/>
Alastor stands up straight and walks into the en-suite bathroom.<br/>
“Uh— Hey, wait, Al, you don’t wanna—!”<br/>
“I’m aware of your predilections, my friend. What you keep in your private quarters is something I’ve no right to be offended by.” He says as he turns on the light. <br/>
Indeed, Angel’s bathroom, specifically the tub, is filled with sex toys of all kinds. Judging by the chemical scent in the air and the way they’re all lined up, they had been cleaned and were drying. Certainly, Alastor was not as…physically inclined as the spider, but he didn’t judge him. To each their own, and all that. Doesn’t mean he didn’t think this amount of…<em>things</em> was a bit overkill. He snaps his fingers again and the objects disappear, a drawer in Angel’s room sliding open and a small portal depositing them where they belonged before the drawer slid shut. He hums to himself as he plugs the tub and starts the water, his fingers under the faucet until he found the proper temperature and leaving the room while the tub filled.<br/>
Angel tilts his head as Alastor comes out, squinting at him.<br/>
“…what?” Alastor asks.<br/>
“The hell are you doin’?”<br/>
“Running you a bath, my dear. Surely you aren’t going to sleep like that, covered in Heaven knows what? No, no, you’re going to be clean if I have to make sure of it myself.”<br/>
“…who are you and what have you done with our Al?” Angel scoffs.<br/>
Alastor grins and laughs.<br/>
“Ha! No switcharoo here, Angel!”<br/>
He bows dramatically.<br/>
“Alastor Leblanc, at your unfortunate service!”<br/>
Angel blinks.<br/>
“Wait, seriously? You use your real name down here?”<br/>
“Nobody ever expects it! Now come, your bath is ready.”</p><p>Alastor helps Angel stand again and walks with him to the bathroom where the tub is full of steaming water, and Angel could nearly cry. Nobody’d ever done this for him before. He was always left to clean up after others. The spider smiles and slowly shrugs of his ripped jacket, hissing a bit at the pressure on his broken wrist. When the deer offers his assistance in removing it, it’s easier, and Angel glances over his shoulder and has to hide a snort that Alastor, ever the gentleman, has his eyes closed as he helps him undress. <br/>
Angel slides into the bath with a quiet hiss between his teeth and Alastor’s ears twitch, slowly opening his eyes.<br/>
“Are you alright?”<br/>
“Yeah,” Angel sighs. “Just…stings. I’ll be good, babe. Thanks.”<br/>
Alastor grins and snaps his fingers, an old fashioned radio manifesting on the sink counter.<br/>
“Wash up, I’ll go take care of your pet. Just call me if you need me.” He points to the radio. “I’ll hear you.”<br/>
Angel nods slow and silent as Alastor leaves him, going into the bedroom where Angel’s pet pig is sitting in the middle of the floor, staring with glowing pink eyes at him. Hanging on a hook near the door is a small harness, and when Alastor picks it up the pig snorts and trots over to him. He sees a collar and tag around the creature’s neck as he clips the pink harness around it, chuckling quietly at the imprinted <strong>FAT NUGGETS</strong> on the tag. Alastor always assumed that was just some dumb little nickname, Nugs, but lo and behold it truly was the pig’s name. He snaps to open a portal to the garden and steps through. Once outside, he unclips the clash and allows the small demon to run free and do as pigs do best. He’s outside for only a few minutes before static buzzes in his ears and they twitch, Angel’s voice coming through his head.<br/>
<em>“…Al? This thing actually work?”</em><br/>
Alastor smiles.<br/>
“Indeed, my fluffy friend. Is everything alright?”<br/>
He hears a sigh along with the shifting of water before Angel speaks again.<br/>
<em>“…can you come back? I…need some help. Please.”</em><br/>
“Of course. I’ll return shortly.”<br/>
The deer snaps his fingers to draw Nuggets’s attention before clicking the clip of the leash a few times as he’d seen Angel do to call the pig back to his master, doing so with a snort as he trotted through the leaves and sat at Alastor’s heels.<br/>
“Well trained, aren’t you? Come now,” he says as he clips the leash again, “your daddy requires our assistance, my porcine friend.”<br/>
The portal opened again, they return to Angel’s bedroom and Alastor frees the pig from its harness before hanging it back up, then quietly tapping on the bathroom door.<br/>
“Angel?” He calls.<br/>
“…c’mon in, Al.”</p><p>Angel is slumped over in the tub, lower arms crossed over his stomach while the upper pair support his head on his knees.<br/>
“…can you get my back? It hurts too much to bend my arms like that.”<br/>
As Alastor approaches the tub, sure enough, Angel’s back is a right nightmare. He hadn’t seen it before since his eyes were closed, but he has long bleeding gashes all the way down his back, done by claws based on their roughness. It’s tinted the bathwater a slight pink.<br/>
“Of course. As long as you don’t mind me touching you.”<br/>
Angel huffs.<br/>
“Nah. Go ahead, honey.”<br/>
Alastor grabs a washcloth and dips it into the water before slowly wiping down the wounds, smile lessening slightly as Angel hisses and whimpers. Alastor may be a ruthless killer, but there’s no joy or entertainment to be found in taking something down that’s been previously wounded. That’s cheating.<br/>
“…why’d you ask?”<br/>
“Pardon?”<br/>
Angel lifts his head and looks over his shoulder.<br/>
“You asked if you could touch me. Why? You never ask to touch people, you just…do. You’re a pretty touchy fella, Al, almost as much as I am.”<br/>
Alastor shrugs.<br/>
“I don’t like being touched unexpectedly, I can certainly recognize the same feelings in another when I see it. You right now, for example, or Husker when he’s having one of his shell-shock episodes. Even darling little Niffty at times when all that energy and perception gets the better of her.” He says as he cleans the cloth before going back for another few swipes.<br/>
Angel hums and drops his head again, silent once more save for his sounds of pain and discomfort. Alastor hums with static.<br/>
“…if you’ll allow me to, my dear, I can close these. It won’t feel pleasant, but you won’t be bleeding anymore.”<br/>
Truly, the smell of Angel’s blood so freely flowing was getting to Alastor and his curse for never-ending hunger, so he was relieved when Angel nodded his head.<br/>
“…yeah. I gotta bite down on somethin’?”<br/>
“No,” he says, “nothing that bad. Relax now, please, and this will be over soon.”<br/>
Alastor takes a deep breath and places his hands over Angel’s back, a dark red light glowing from his palms as he slowly passes them over the wounds. He doesn’t often use his powers for healing others, hardly using them at all even for himself, but now seems as good a time as any. The flayed and bleeding skin and fur on Angel’s back slowly mends itself, stitching back together with only the sounds of Alastor’s ever-present static and Angel’s quiet whines of pain accompanying the process. Wounds closed, Alastor pulls his hands away.<br/>
“I can’t do much for the scars left behind, but you are no longer losing blood.”<br/>
“It’s alright…fur grows back.” Angel mumbles. “Should get out, anyway. Water’s gettin’ cold.”<br/>
Alastor nods and stands, offering the taller demon a large towel and averting his eyes just as before while Angel stands and wraps it around his waist. Instead of toweling off as Alastor would expect, Angel scrubs himself dry as normal before sitting on top of the lid to the toilet and reaching under the sink for a large container of what looks like sand with a smiling cupcake on the label.<br/>
“What’s that?”<br/>
“Dust bath. I have to use it. My fur is too dense and doesn’t dry, so I have to brush this through otherwise I’ll mold. Learned that shit the hard way.”<br/>
Angel scoops out a generous portion of sand before taking a brush to it. Alastor tilts his head in interest.<br/>
“Angel, forgive my curiosity, but…is your chest all fur?”<br/>
The spider snorts.<br/>
“Nah, not all of it. Another part of my personal Hell, I guess, but I don’t mind ‘em much no more.”<br/>
Alastor blinks.<br/>
“Oh, you’re…”<br/>
“Yeah. Not a lotta people care down here since we ain’t lookin’ human anyway, so it isn’t very important. I’m still a man though, so don't you go gettin’ your fuckin’ tail in a twist about it.”<br/>
Alastor shakes his head.<br/>
“Of course not, my dear. Now, finish your bath and we’ll continue this in your room. That pig of yours misses you, I’m sure.”</p><p>Out of the bathroom, Alastor snaps his fingers and, much like on his first day, dresses the spider. Though, instead of a well-fitting suit, Angel is wearing satin shorts, knee-high socks, and a slightly oversized pink sweater. Angel blinks. He doesn’t own these, they’re entirely new.<br/>
“…thanks, Smiles, but…why?”<br/>
Alastor keeps his grin.<br/>
“Consider them a gift, my dear, to make up for your obviously horrible day. Now, where is your first aid?” He asks as Angel sits on his bed.<br/>
“…my what?”<br/>
“Your first aid?”<br/>
Angel snorts.<br/>
“Why the hell would I have that?”<br/>
“You’re still bleeding, for one. For another, your wrist appears to be broken.”<br/>
“Shit heals on its own, babe.”<br/>
The deer demon sighs.<br/>
“Seems I must do everything around here.” He says as he manifests a small red box into his hand, approaching Angel’s bed but stopping right at the edge. He gestures to the plush pink comforter. “May I? It’s your space, dear. I won’t enter it without your say-so.”<br/>
Angel nods slowly and moves a bit to give Alastor more room, watching as the resident Overlord takes a seat and then holds out his hand.<br/>
“Now, let me see.”<br/>
“…see what?”<br/>
“Your arm, dear. Give it.”<br/>
The care that Alastor disinfects and manages Angel’s wounds with is..an odd thing considering he’s, in Vaggie’s words, “one of the most powerful beings Hell has ever seen,”. When Angel winces, Alastor backs off, only to return a moment later with the same level and gentleness and care. There’s music coming from somewhere too, and it only takes Angel a few minutes to realize it’s emanating from the Radio Demon himself. The silence is comfortable, but Angel always feels awkward when it’s quiet for too long so he speaks.<br/>
“So, uh… Why? I mean, I appreciate it, I guess, but…y’know.”<br/>
“Why am I helping you?”<br/>
“Yeah.”<br/>
Alastor chuckles and he wraps a bleeding cut on Angel’s forearm.<br/>
“Can’t have our star patron in this condition, now can we?”<br/>
“Pfft—,” Angel snorts, “I’m ya only patron, Smiles.”<br/>
Alastor’s grin widens.<br/>
“Which means you are very important, Angel! You’re incredibly injured, it’s nothing short of, well, a <em>miracle</em> that you made it back home safely in this state!”<br/>
The spider just shrugs. He knows all the best back alleys and side streets in Hell to avoid being seen if he wishes.<br/>
“Speaking of your injuries, my dear… Who did this to you? I’d very much like to know their identity if you wouldn’t mind.”</p><p>The spider’s tenses, fur fluffing in anxiety.<br/>
“Oh, uh—,” he laughs nervously, “well, ya know! Had a busy night! Lotsa Johns with lotsa money to toss my way!”<br/>
“Hmm…” Alastor hums. “Indeed. I’m sure you must charge quite a bit for this kind of…treatment to be allowed. However, I’m not our dear naive princess, Angel, and I know that isn’t the truth. Come now, out with it.”<br/>
Angel sighs, dropping his eyes from Alastor’s concentrated face to watch instead as the overlord carefully runs his fingers along the juts of his mangled wrist. It’s tender, but Alastor doesn’t hurt him.<br/>
“You not know how a pimp works, honey?”<br/>
“Let’s pretend I don’t. Please, enlighten me,” he says, putting a bit more pressure on it, “it will keep your mind off what I’m about to do.”<br/>
“W-what’re you gonna—,”<br/>
The question is cut off by a sickening snap and Angel’s scream of pain as the bone in his wrist is broken once more. The spider yanks his arm back and cradles it to his chest, sniffling and gritting his teeth. Alastor is unbothered.<br/>
“Come now, that couldn’t have been worse than when this supposed John of yours snapped it to begin with.”<br/>
“It still fuckin’ hurt, you smiley son of a bitch!” Angel snarls. “Why’d you do that??”<br/>
“As you said, my dear, <em>‘shit heals on its own,’</em>. Your wrist was already well on its way, albeit improperly. Re-breaking and setting now is less painful than if it had been left to do so on its own and will also take significantly less time.”<br/>
Angel glares at the deer who is holding more bandages in his hands but is also waiting patiently for permission to continue. He just sighs and rubs his wrist for a moment before slowly giving it back to Alastor.<br/>
“Now, dear,” Alastor continues, “tell me what happened to you tonight. I’d like the truth, if you please. Trust that I won’t betray your confidence in me to Miss Charlotte.”</p><p>From what Angel knows of Alastor, he’s many things.</p><p>Alastor is a murderer, a serial killer, and a cannibal in both life and afterlife. He’s extremely powerful, enough that even Val respects him and leaves him be, knowing better than to draw the ire of the Radio Demon. Alastor is a deal maker, a manipulator always hiding true intentions behind a wicked grin and the buzz of radio static.<br/>
But he always gives what is expected of him, nothing less or more than what deal he’s made. <br/>
Alastor is a demon of his word.<br/>
If he says he won’t tell Charlie, then Angel knows that whatever he says in here won’t get back to the Princess.</p><p>Angel sighs and looks down.<br/>
“…you ever been in love, Al?”</p><p>The question catches the deer off guard, stopping his wrapping to look at Angel for a moment before shrugging and going back to work.<br/>
“Can’t say I have.”<br/>
“Really? No little filly topside for ya?”<br/>
“No, it wasn’t in the cards for me. My dear mother never understood why I failed to settle down with a nice girl, but… I believe I simply never found her. I never felt an attraction like that to any woman I met. Not even men, when I briefly considered I may be temperamental.”<br/>
Angel tilts his head, fluffy hair falling into his mismatched eyes.<br/>
“…really? Wasn’t that…lonely?”<br/>
Alastor shook his head.<br/>
“Never. I don’t get lonely, Angel.”<br/>
The spider frowns but nods his head.<br/>
“…did you ever wanna be?”<br/>
Alastor looks up, meeting Angel’s eyes with a little glare.<br/>
“Aren’t we talking about you, my dear? Why the sudden interest in my non-existent romantic escapades?”<br/>
“It’s relevant, babe! Ya know I’m gay—,”<br/>
“Yes, Angel, and every other denizen of Hell within their first few hours down under. Please, continue.”<br/>
“Sorry.” He says, then sighs as he leans back on his uninjured arm, turning his head to watch Fat Nuggets gnawing on their dinner.<br/>
“I, uh, y’know, didn’t really find anything special up top. Pops caught me messin’ with the paperboy once, and… Well, my punishment was disposin’ of the poor bastard when Pops was done with ‘em. Then, I end up down here after OD’ing a few weeks after I got this.”<br/>
Angel gestures to his off-color eye.<br/>
“Docs popped a needle up my eye and put a fuckin’ hole in my head. Merry Christmas to Anthony, I guess. Anyway, I woke up in the Second Circle a day before an extermination, and who finds me there but Valentino. I’m real lucky he found me when he did, Smiles. He offered me a job, protection from the angels, said I was too pretty not to make somethin’ of it. We…made a contract.”</p><p>Alastor’s hands pause for a hardly noticeable moment before he continues wrapping.<br/>
A contract?<br/>
That’s the first he’s hearing of something like that. It definitely explains why Angel seems to be uat the moth’s every beck and call. He can’t refuse, for Valentino holds the spider’s very soul in his hands.<br/>
Angel continues speaking.<br/>
“Wasn’t so bad, at first. I like sex, I like drugs… Didn’t really see a problem with what he had to offer. Then... Then sometimes he gets mean. Usually my fault too, I’m real stupid. I’m— I’m always fuckin’ pushin’ him, y’know? Any other whore he’d have killed ten times over by now but— But I’m special. He told me so. He doesn’t kill me, he…he loves me.”<br/>
And to Alastor’s ears, it sounds like Angel actually believes that. The deer hums.<br/>
“Doesn’t kill, sure. But it seems he has no qualms about hurting you.” He says as he inspects another deep cut on Angel’s arms. Claws, same as the others, and the ones on his back. He’s starting to get a clearer picture of what happened here and he doesn’t like it one bit.</p><p>“Nah,” Angel says dismissively, “I— I deserved it, Al, I told him—,”<br/>
“No?”<br/>
Angel pauses before he nods slowly.<br/>
“Yeah. You…you don’t say no to Val, honey. He gets what he wants when he wants it. I— I should’nt’a said no to him, he’s done so much for me, I had no right to tell him that.”<br/>
Alastor looks up at Angel for a moment and tuts, running a glowing red hand over the deep wound.<br/>
“See, my dear, I must disagree. I don’t think anyone has the right to lay their hands on another the way Valentino does to you.”<br/>
Angel snorts.<br/>
“Ain't you a serial killer, babe?”<br/>
“A murderer, yes. A rapist, absolutely not. I detest the beasts.”<br/>
Angel frowns.<br/>
“Val isn’t a— I mean, he didn’t…”<br/>
Alastor tilts his head as he secures the bandage, ears twitching.<br/>
“Angel, my darling, you come in here four hours past your curfew, beaten, bleeding from more than just these cuts, ripped clothes, limping, and with a broken wrist, and you mean to tell me that he didn’t—,”<br/>
“<em>HE OWNS ME, AL!</em>” Angel snaps, pulling his hands away again. “He... He fucking owns me. I’m… I’m his property, he can— He can do whatever he wants to me, especially if I—,”<br/>
“Deserve it. And, tell me, Angel, what exactly did you say no to?”<br/>
Angel frowns and draws all his limbs close, curling up in a gangly, fluffy, pink ball.<br/>
“…I didn’t wanna take the drugs he gave me. I turned ‘em down, didn’t want ‘em.”</p><p>Now, there’s a surprise.</p><p>“…I see.” Alastor hums. “Why?”<br/>
“…cause I knew what he’d make me do if I did. Seemed worse than if I said no. When I’m high…” Angel sighs and leans on his knees. “When I’m high, I’ll do anything Val tells me. Anything. I been in porn I don’t even remember doin’ cause of how fucked up he got me on PCP, coke, Ex, you name it. Sometimes, I liked it like that. It feels…good. Not to care. Felt better than the sex sometimes, too. But I wasn’t in the mood tonight. Been tryna cut back, make Chuck proud, make ‘er happy…maybe get ‘er hopes up. I dunno. Just…ain’t really been feelin’ like I need it.”<br/>
Angel sniffles and wipes under his left four eyes. “Val told me those drugs cost a lotta money, so if I wasn’t gonna put ‘em to any use then—then I was gonna make him back the money in another way.”<br/>
Alastor is quiet, only the hum of his static in the room for a few moments before he speaks again.<br/>
“…I could kill him if you wish. That pubic louse wouldn’t stand a chance against me and all three of us know it.”<br/>
Angel coughs.<br/>
“Kill h— <em>What??</em> No! Al, no! Don’t—!”<br/>
“Why not?” Alastor asks with a slight tilt of the head, bangs falling from his face and exposing the bright red death mark in the center of his forehead. “This is a serious grievance, my dear. This hotel is under my protection, part of my territory, as are its residents, few as they may be. By harming you, Valentino has breached our…mutual agreement and made it null and void. He should be punished for that, at least.”<br/>
The deer demon’s eyes are entirely black, red pupils like pinpricks, and his smile is dangerous. Angel gulps.<br/>
“Al, no, please don’t… He— He has my contract. If he dies, I belong to Vox, and fuck do I not want that. You think this is bad, you ain’t seen me when Vox has had his way.”<br/>
Alastor calms, humming in thought before suddenly snapping his fingers, an Angel can practically see the lightbulb flash to life above his head.<br/>
“Well then, I’ll simply ask him for your contract! Problem solved.”<br/>
“Wait, what?? Alastor!”<br/>
“What? You don’t trust me, cha? I have contracts with Niffty and Husker, don’t I? They’re fine as peacock feathers!”<br/>
Angel stands from his bed, body trembling in anxiety.<br/>
“That ain’t it, Al! You really expect Val to just—just fucking give you my contract?? I’m his biggest cash cow, he ain’t given’ me up easy as you just askin’ for it!”<br/>
Alastor chuckles, summoning his cane to lean on as he turns to face the pacing spider.<br/>
“Oh, my dear, I’m counting on that! It wouldn’t be fun if he did. I’ll make him a deal, you see, something he can’t refuse. Simple math for a simple creature.”<br/>
Angel stops, claws in his hair, and sends the other demon is disbelieving look.<br/>
“…you? Make a deal with Valentino?”<br/>
Alastor nods, standing from the bed and spinning his cane.<br/>
“A business deal, cha! He <em>adds</em> your contracts to my possessions,” he says as he summons a small flame to his palm, then tosses it to his other hand, “and I <em>subtract</em> the number of limbs I rip from his pathetic, squirming little body!” He clenches his fist to extinguish the flame and grins. “As I said, simple math for a simple creature. Surely Valentino will see reason. After all, I’m nothing if not fair when it comes to my deals.”</p><p>Angel can’t help the sputtering laughter form erupts from him. Charlie and Vaggie may have their reasons to fear the radio-host overlord, but Angel, personally, thinks he’s just fine. He even thinks he’s a little cheered up.<br/>
“Al, you’re a fuckin’ card… Look, don’t… Don’t do nothin’ like that cause o’ me. It ain’t worth the consequences.”<br/>
Alastor’s grin lessens a fraction and he sighs through his nose, ear twitching in annoyance, but he nods.<br/>
“…very well. However, if you change your mind, do let me know. I’ve been waiting for a reason to squash that little pest.” He says before taking his seat back on Angel’s bed and patting the space the spider previously occupied. “Back to it then?”<br/>
Angel takes his seat again, this time with a lit joint between his lips. Alastor huffs and snorts at the smell, but pushes past and ignores it after a moment of getting used to it.<br/>
“Hey, since I just spilled to you,” he says, blowing the smoke towards the open window with a small fan blowing towards it, “can ya tell me a few things? Kinda curious about you, Smiles.”<br/>
“Hmm… Fair enough, What would you like to know?”<br/>
“That stuff you said earlier ‘bout not…y’know…feelin’ any kinda need for sex stuff. I ain’t ever heard o’ that. Tell me more? I obviously don’t got that so I don’t know what it feels like.”<br/>
Alastor huffs.<br/>
“Not much to say, I’m afraid. Imagine how you feel, but…not, I suppose. I’m not sure how to explain it myself. I just never felt that sort of natural call with anyone.”<br/>
Angel, personally, can’t imagine it. Cursed to the Lust circle, his particular hellish torture was a never-ending, never-satisfied sense of lust. Angel would never be satisfied and always be left wanting more sex, drugs, whatever he could get addicted to. He’d heard of something vaguely similar to Alastor in his life, but it was brushed off as some kind of…mental thing with a block keeping him from doing “what he was supposed to,” similar to how to doctors had described him shortly before his suicide. If Alastor was anything like him, then…<br/>
“…wonder if Vaggie would know anything about that.”<br/>
“Vaggie?” Alastor asks. “Why would she?”<br/>
The spider demon shrugs.<br/>
“I’unno. She only died six years ago, and twenty-sixteen’s a helluva way off from, what, nineteen-thirty? Thirty-five? Might be a real name for what you are. Never know.”</p><p>It’s an interesting thought. Perhaps he’d bring it up to her later if she let him anywhere within ten feet of her. For now, Angel is his priority.</p><p><br/>
It isn’t much longer until Alastor is finished, Angel’s wounds patched, bandaged, and magically mended. The deer sighs and stands from the bed, dusting off his pants and coat.<br/>
“Sleep now, dear. It’s late. Sleep, and do not get up until you are fully rested. I’ll tell Charlie you’ve fallen under the weather and have Niffty bring you your share of breakfast in the morning.”<br/>
Angel nods and slides beneath his blankets, pet pig climbing up to the comforter with a small set of stairs and curling up at his side, just at the curve of his waist. The spider set for sleep, Alastor takes his leave, though just as he turns, a white hand reaches out a grasps the skirt of his red coat. He turns.<br/>
“Yes?”<br/>
Angel frowns.<br/>
“I… I know it’s silly, but…could you, uhm…”<br/>
“Spit it out, dear. Do you need a nightlight? A glass of water? The door open just a crack, perhaps?”<br/>
“Could you stay?”</p><p>Well, he wasn’t expecting that.</p><p>“Just ’til I’m asleep, that’s all. I… I know it’s stupid and—,”<br/>
And he’s more than fair game for Alastor to mock, and perhaps a lesser demon would, but Alastor is just in death as he was in life; taking someone down while they’re already wounded is unsportsmanlike, like a shot in the back. So he nods and summons an elegant looking chair made of deep brown boreal wood, intricate designs on the back with a plush red cushion before taking a seat.<br/>
“I would only think you a fool if you didn’t take advantage of my sympathy while you have it. You have my company until you fall peacefully into sleep, Angel.”<br/>
Alastor summons a book into his hands as well, the radio he’d given to the other demon in the bathroom happily transporting itself to Angel’s bedside before tuning in to a channel of soft, wordless blues. As music and the sound of turning paper fills the room, Alastor’s left ear gives a little twitch before he suddenly feels lips on his cheek, and the sound of short giggles from Angel follows the record scratch that comes from the radio at his bedside. He smiles.<br/>
“…thanks, Al,” he says before laying back down under his plush blankets and snuggling his snoring pig close to his chest with all four arms.<br/>
Alastor turns his head to look at the other demon. Angel isn’t stupid, despite what the spider says about himself, he’s actually quite intelligent.<br/>
No, Angel isn’t stupid, Alastor thinks.<br/>
He brings his fingers up to touch the warm spot on his cheek.<br/>
No, <em>impulsive</em> is the word to describe Angel Dust.</p><p>“Goodnight, <em>lanmou mwen.</em>”</p><p>When he leaves, shoes clicking quietly on the wooden floors, he’s sure to close the door silently, knob slightly turned to avoid even the slightest sounds that could disturb Angel. He deserves his rest after the night he’s had. He even leaves the radio behind. Another gift.<br/>
He sings quietly to himself as he walks back to his room, shadow grinning on the wall with intent to tease but common sense enough to know better. The smile is enough.<br/>
Angel has been…quite an interest of his for a while, something about the spider demon niggling the back of his mind like an unsatisfied itch. He saw more, heard more, felt more, and knew more than he always let on, never letting people see beyond the persona he put up to make sure they doubted him, discredited him, and he used it to his advantage. Angel’s mind was much like his own, and that intrigued Alastor far beyond what anyone else had ever done, even in life.<br/>
As he enters his room, he smiles at his all-knowing shadow. Yes, the damnable creature was correct, but teasing was only fun if the opposing party were to deny the claims and accusations against them. He moves to his desk, an antique thing with swirled feet at the ends of the legs that had seen its days of use, and sits himself down in the desk chair there, black leather that creaks with age.</p><p>He hums as he reaches into a locked cabinet and removes a pink patchwork doll wearing a white dress, a patch of white and pink fur tied around the middle the smells faintly of freshly whipped cream. He strokes a red-tipped claw over the head and smiles before carefully setting it aside before removing another doll.<br/>
This one is black entirely, a black ribbon fastening a white feather to it, one his shadow had plucked from Angel’s torn skirt several weeks ago.<br/>
He grins cruelly at the effigy in his hands, many plans knocking around in his head.<br/>
<em>Oh,</em> the things he could do…</p><p>“Foul, loathsome little cockroach…” Alastor sneers as he digs a claw into a heart-shaped bead he’d sewn in for the eyes, pressing hard enough to puncture the fabric with an audible pop.<br/>
“Soon, you’ll see things my way.”</p><p>This doll, too, is set aside, though with much less care than he had the white one. He looks at all the other dolls, friends on one side of the cabinet and enemies on the other, and far in the back, right at the divide, is a silent sentinel made of red, a lock of his own hair tied around the middle, attentive in both protection and contempt.<br/>
“Keep watch, won’t you?” He tells the thing before closing the cabinet and locking it tight, vanishing the key into the shadows he calls home.</p><p>Yes, he thinks, he and Valentino will soon have a score to settle. If he won’t give up Angel willingly, then Alastor will take him by force.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>* in Alastor’s time, he could or would have been diagnosed with what was called “sexual anesthesia”, “sexual coldness”, or “psychosexual dysfunction”</p><p>* cha - “cher”, meaning “dear” with a Louisiana accent. A common term of endearment</p><p>* lanmou mwen - Haitian Creole for “love of mine”</p></blockquote></div></div>
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